Eavesdropping will get you everywhere
by MaybeItsJustMyType
Summary: Molly is discussing with Meena how well her imagination serves her where her lack of sex life and Sherlock Holmes intersect. Of course he overhears, where would the fun/plot be if he didn't?


Molly lay supine on her bed, half empty bottle of wine next to her, giggling into her phone, once a month since Meena had relocated for work to Edinburgh they had drinkies whilst chatting on the phone, a girls night in with the help of satellites and high speed cable. They had of course, tried Skype but they were old fashioned and preferred to talk without having to be visible at all times, as Meena pointed out it sure made the frequent wine-induced toilet trips a lot easier to manage on such long phone calls.

Meena was in a relationship with a man she believed was the one for her - this was something Meena had never said before so molly did not take it lightly. Of course this development had preceded talk on Molly's love life - or lack thereof - and subsequent lack of sex life.

Inevitably the discussion turned to the consulting detective and Molly's feelings for him, with the wine loosening Molly's tongue she confided in Meena, "That man has given me more orgasms without laying a hand on me than Tom did the whole time we were engaged," laughing she added, "I'm fairly certain he gave me more than Tom even when Tom was present! Ah Meena, imagination is a wonderful thing."

Meena laughed, "Well, he's certainly sexy, I'll give you that, but you just can't wait around hoping that he may one day notice he has boy parts and he might want to use them with your girl parts. Do you even know what his deal is? Does he even have a deal?"

Molly laughed, "In my imagination he does, he has a really lovely _deal_ that fits me just perfectly!" Molly covered her face with her hands, though Meena couldn't see her, she could feel her cheeks burning, it didn't stop her from adding, "My vibrator helps too."

When she paused to take a breath she heard the distinctive sound of a text tone, she gasped, _Oh no, no, no, no, no, please, no_ , "Meena? I have to go."

"Is everything alright? What do you mean you have to go? It's Friday night and you're _drunk_ , what can you possibly need to do?"

"I just, um, I'll call you okay?" Molly pressed the end key on her phone before Meena could protest.

Molly put the phone down and switched off her light so she could sneak out into the pitch black hallway and check if Sherlock was out there, hopefully without attracting attention to herself.

She eased the door open a millimetre at a time, when it was open wide enough to slip through she did so, moving as quietly as possible, turning her head towards the spare bedroom, her only hope was that Sherlock had been asleep and hadn't heard her conversation.

A flicker of movement behind her, she spun toward it taking half a step before hitting a wall of flesh, Molly shrieked. When she felt hands steadying her arms she asked, "Sherlock?"

Her panic at the thought of him having heard her talking to Meena momentarily overthrown by the fear that it was someone else sneaking around in her flat.

Sherlock grasped her waist and spun her against the wall facing away from him, his voice came low and his breath hot against her ear, "Were you imagining someone else Molly?"

Molly closed her eyes, blowing out a shaky breath "Y-you heard that then? Uh, it was a joke?" She pressed her hands against the wall and waited, barely moving, already embarrassingly aroused.

Sherlock moved his hands up under her pyjama top, Molly hissed in a shocked breath, "It seems a little unfair that I've given you all these orgasms but I've never had the pleasure of," he paused and bit her ear lobe, "Hearing one myself."

Molly moaned, she couldn't stop herself, his hands travelled up and palmed her breasts, Molly moaned again, louder, breath coming ever faster, "Sherlock?"

Sherlock pinched and rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, softly, gently, never quite applying enough pressure, "Hmm? Do you wish me to stop?" The words dark in her ears, the longing between her legs growing.

" _No_! No, don't stop," Molly pleaded as she arched into his hands to ask for more pressure, Sherlock obliged. His rough, violin calloused fingers danced across her nipples, palms massaging the firm flesh underneath, when her head fell to the side he ducked down and nuzzled her neck.

Sherlock started kissing his way around her neck, the first kiss he placed on the hollow below her ear, as he did so, his hand raked through her hair, his long fingers massaging the base of her skull, continuing he kissed down the inside of the tendon standing out in taut relief, culminating in the suprasternal notch. Molly tried to turn her head toward him, but his hand moved to stop her.

"No, Molly, you have to _imagine_ me," he slid his hands down her torso, firmly, slowly, sending electric currents buzzing and jangling across Molly's nerve endings, when she moaned he bit her neck and she gasped, hips tilting up in quick succession.

Molly felt him smile against her neck, yearning to turn around, if she could _see_ his face she would know whether or not this was a manipulation. Immediately she dismissed that thought, better _not_ to know, she knew damn well she'd do it anyway, whatever it turned out to be; Sherlock proving a point, Sherlock wanting _favours_ , experimenting, she'd take any chance to have him in any way. No consequences could make this not worth it, it'd hurt, but she'd never been able to say no to him, certainly she wouldn't start now with his lips ghosting across her neck causing ripples of goosebumps to cascade the down her body.

"Blindfold me," she offered him, his movements stilled and his breath was silenced, feeling his hands slide away and off of waist she held her breath, when he didn't move away she allowed herself to hope maybe he wouldn't.

Feeling his hands brushing over her hair she sucked in a breath, the moment his soft scarf covered her eyes her sex began pulsing in anticipation, whispering "Oh, god, oh my god," her breath wild and ragged.

Sherlock tied the scarf firmly at the back, then slipped his fingers under to make it wasn't too tight, leaning in to her ear he rumbled, "Is this what you had in mind? It's not too tight?"

Molly whimpered, "May I turn around?"

"Oh yes, you'll need to turn around, you're going to _show me_ what I've been missing," deepening his voice he continued, "It's customary to share your toys when someone comes to _play_ , Molly."

Molly cursed her lack of pants under her pyjamas, with each word spoken in that deep deep voice she felt her self pulse in anticipation, her thighs were slicked, as his warm hands clutched her slim hips and spun her around she bit her lip.

Sherlock hissed in a breath, her arousal was as evident as his own, his cock throbbed insistently at the sight of her damp pyjama pants, he was relieved she couldn't see how undone he already was, he leaned in, desperate to taste her mouth.

Molly was in a world of darkness, it heightened her other senses and increased her arousal, when she felt Sherlock's lips press against her own she reached out to grab him. His coat was her anchor, her knees weakened with the onslaught of sensory information his tongue sliding and searching in her mouth caused.

He kissed like he did everything, the full force of his concentration and personality pinpointed on Molly. She felt like a lightning rod for the electrical storm that is Sherlock Holmes, each point of contact sizzled with electricity, sparks buzzed and spiralled around them, blue flames dancing.

Molly sucked on the tip of his tongue, his reaction was immediate, he groaned while sliding his hands up under her butt cheeks to lift her, settling her in place so that her warm, wet, centre was resting on his engorged length.

Molly's movements were frantic, undulating, rubbing her core on his iron hard shaft, her hands were in his hair, tugging, pulling, combing through, yanking him down to her again, and again, eliciting gasps and cries from him, the sounds delighting her.

Sherlock pulled away from her mouth, still carrying her, his breath rapid and shallow, Molly's face screwed up, she obviously feared rejection. Sherlock's voice was more breath than sound when he spoke, "I want, - _show_ me."

Molly was panting, her eyes were hidden but Sherlock knew they'd be black with desire were he able to see them clearly. Her tongue darted out to swipe at her lips, pink and wet, Sherlock cursed and moved in to abuse her mouth again.

They broke apart again when oxygen became necessary, Sherlock simply picked her up this time without uttering a word, Molly slipped her hands out of his hair to gain a proper hold behind his neck. Stomach swooping as she was tossed on to the bed only to feel his body land on hers immediately after, the weight of him nestled between her legs sublimely erotic.

"Sherlock?" Molly's hands were roaming, over his shoulders, his biceps, down to his shirt buttons, hands shaking badly as she tried to blindly angle the tiny, _uncooperative_ buttons through their holes in order to release them.

"Hmm?" Sherlock was just as busy as Molly herself, his hands had slipped under her pyjama top and pushed it out of the way, his lips sought first one breast and then the other, Molly squealed forced to temporarily pause in her efforts to rid him of his clothes.

"Molly, I want to _see_ , I want to see what you imagine, I want you to show _me_ ," he reached over to her bedside table and opened the bottom drawer.

Molly slumped back, she heard the draw opening and threw an arm over her face to hide, _Is he really going to? Of course he is, this is Sherlock Holmes_.

Sherlock glanced back at her, her pyjama top pushed up to her neck revealing her small, but beautifully perky breasts, pretty shell pink nipples, and flat stomach, closing his eyes momentarily to steady himself, he turned away, he needed to calm down or it would be over with before it was begun.

He stripped his clothes off which at least somewhat relieved the pressure on his erection and then crawled in between Molly's legs. His cock bobbing up and down, brushed over her damp pyjama covered centre as he grasped her pyjama top and pulled it over her head and all the way off.

Molly grabbed his arms and yanked him to her for a deep and lingering kiss, one hand wandering to take a hold of his manhood as she did so, her approving murmur causing his lips to tilt up against hers.

"First show me, Molly, show me what you do when you're alone and _my name_ spills from your lips." Sherlock took hold of her pyjama bottoms and yanked them down her legs, eyes falling on her glistening folds, his movements came to a complete holt, falling back on his haunches his eyes caught.

Molly lifted her head, immediately she flopped it back down again because she could see nothing, she kicked at her legs to dislodge her pants and heard Sherlock hiss, bending her knees up to her chest with her feet straight into the air she pulled her pants off, when she went to move them down Sherlock stopped her.

"Don't move, Molly you're beautiful," he ran the palm of his hand over her sweet wet cunt, "So pretty," Molly swept her arms around her thighs to hold them up.

The first sweep of Sherlock's tongue across her pearl had her crying out, the pleasure so intense, he licked and sucked and flicked with his fingers. Molly was crying out, offering words of encouragement, after an especially long and enthusiastic sip he pulled away although he continued to lazily swipe his thumb back and forth.

His voice was a growl when he told Molly, "Show me." He pressed her vibrator into her hand and loosened her arms to let her legs fall apart, "Turn it on," he gritted out.

Molly nodded, no longer embarrassed, she needed to orgasm so badly that she probably would have done it with a Iive studio audience had he requested it. Flicking the switch and turning it to a low setting Molly positioned it over her clit and swirled it slowly.

"Tell me Molly, describe what you think about, say it, say _my_ name."

Molly rocked her hips up and down and started, "First you kiss me."

"Here?" he asked swiping his fingers over her crease, caressing and sliding through the wetness, "Or here?" Using the same fingers he trailed them across her lips.

Molly sucked his fingers in to her mouth, holding them between her teeth she managed to get out, her voice tinged with fierce need, "My mouth."

Sherlock left his fingers in her mouth and joined her in sucking them clean, Molly's hand dropped holding the vibrator fell away, lost in their kiss, the taste of herself had never been erotic, but combined with _him_ , it was ambrosia.

Sherlock tilted his head away, in a gruff tone he commanded her, "Continue."

Molly moaned, she was already so close, already rippling and pulsating, taking a few deep breaths she pulled herself back from the edge.

Sherlock watched her, breasts heaving up and down, trying so desperately not to orgasm, his own prick was unbearably hard, his hunger to plunge it into her ready heat over powering.

"Then you would t-touch me." Molly's teeth were biting down on her lower lip, knowing she shouldn't orgasm yet.

"Where?" His voice hoarse, barely recognisable, eyes devouring every inch of her, "Here?" Touching her arm, he never took his eyes off of her for a second. Even just the simple act of touching her arm had an immediate response.

Her hips arched off the bed, "You'd touch my," she paused, Sherlock knew without having to see them that her eyes were closed, "Cunt."

Sherlock's cock throbbed painfully at her admission, he grabbed the vibrator and flung it away, positioning himself above her, stroking his cock firmly so she could feel it, "Tell me, ask me for what you want Molly."

Molly lay completely open before him, her lips parted, a whisper of a breeze could have sent over the edge into her impending orgasm, his voice was very nearly doing so, she sighed, "I imagine you burying your enormous cock in my cunt," Molly was at the point of sobbing.

Sherlock pushed in slowly, each sweet clench tipping him further toward the edge, "My name, Molly," the words barely able to make it past his gritted teeth.

Molly screamed his name as he filled her completely, his hard, flat stomach rubbing against her bud, "Sherlock, Sherlock, oh fuck, _always_ your name, Sherlock."

Sherlock roared, pounding into her, furiously, hips snapping against her thighs with each thrust, his balls tightening with each thrust, "Molly, Molly."

Molly pulled him down as she surged up to meet him, as she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth she felt him pulsing deep inside her. She held him tightly and kissed him thoroughly, not knowing what this was, if it would ever happen again. She was determined to show him everything in that kiss, all her desire, lust, her burning heat for him, all the love, all the care that would remain even if tonight was a never to be repeated aberration.

The kiss ended all too soon, Molly fell back to the pillow, immediately and all consumingly bereft of his warmth, of his maleness, of his Sherlockness. She waited till she felt him get up and then rolled to her side, maybe, if she was lucky he'd let her keep the scarf on, allow her a small measure of dignity.

She heard him leave the room to go to the bathroom, he hadn't spoken a word, she rolled up onto her side and felt around for the throw she kept on her bed to cover herself with, finally her hand made contact with it and she dragged it over herself.

She could hear the taps in the bathroom running, she hoped he'd taken his clothes with him. She would truly be happy to be his friend only if that's what he wanted, - which his silence certainly indicated was the case - but just for tonight, she didn't want him to read the love in her eyes, there was only so much humiliation a girl could take. She had no idea why what just happened had happened, but she thought it likely to be something in the way of an experiment.

Hearing his footsteps approaching again she decided to play dead, maybe he'd think she was sleeping, or maybe he'd play along, he wasn't _always_ cruel anymore.

Sherlock paused in the door, he had a clean bucket with warm water in one hand and in the other hand a cloth, his eyes raked over Molly, mind racing, curled into a ball, cover pulled over even though risk of dirtying is high and it's not cold… "Oh! Stupid, stupid." He set the bowl and cloth down on her bedside table.

Molly heard him, her stomach plunged even further into despair, she felt his hands on his scarf as the first tear fell, "Sherlock, can't you do without your scarf, just for tonight?"

"I don't want my scarf," he scoffed as he yanked it off, "I want _you_ , I was too afraid to tell you, I thought you didn't want me anymore after, well, after everything."

Molly turned and met his eyes, "You _want_ me?"

"Wrong word, I _need_ you, I told you years ago, I don't know why you wont ever believe me," his face softened, tilting his head he looked at her, lips pressed together, his emotions laid bare for her.

Molly's eyes flickered back and forth all over his face, taking him all in, her eyes widened when she saw it was the truth. "Sherlock?" Never one to turn away from a difficult emotion she ploughed through, "Do you _love_ me?" Her gaze was shaky but remained trained on him.

Sherlock closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip, he nodded slowly, "Yes, Molly."

Molly's face lit up, she sat up letting the cover fall, Sherlock's eyes flicked down, "Will you do that every time I profess my love?"

Molly laughed, "Maybe, although I must point out that you didn't actually say it.." She raised her eyebrows at him in mock disapproval.

Sherlock grinned at her, launching himself at her he chided her, "Well, I can't exactly go around saying I love you to filthy little street urchins, can I?" He kissed her deep and long and slow, until she knew beyond a shade of a doubt how he felt. When he pulled back she looked the way he hoped he would always make her look, sated, loved, peaceful.

He rolled away and got his cloth and water, telling her, "Maybe if I clean you up a little," he swabbed at her slowly and lovingly.

Molly watched him with tears in her eyes, far from being embarrassed by his attentions, she felt worshipped, loved in the profound way she loved him.

When he had finished and was satisfied, he disappeared to take the cloth and bucket away, Molly lay drifting in and out of sleep while she waited, this time with no fear.

When he finished cleaning everything up, - both John and Mrs Hudson would shocked to learn how capable he could be when he wanted to be - he padded back into Molly's bedroom.

She was curled up on her side, forehead smooth, mouth relaxed, sensing his presence, her eyes flickered open, flowing up and down his naked form. She smiled at the sight of him, eyes lit with joy. Holding her arms out she entreated him, "Come and lay down with me."

Sherlock crossed the room in a single stride, he sprang into the bed with the exuberance of a child, tucking Molly's head under his own and curling his body in a protective semi circle around her back, his left hand slid down her arm until he reached her hand, winding his fingers through hers, his face wore a Cheshire grin.

They slept wrapped in each other's arms all that night and every night thereafter, in later years their children would be tangled up in the middle, one thing that never changed, Sherlock's grin as he drifted into sleep holding the one who mattered the most.

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